


Drawing out the Competition

by katabulo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Otabek Altin, Creampie, Day 4 - Domestic, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, OtaYuri Week 2017, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katabulo/pseuds/katabulo
Summary: “I never get to hear you! Why do you keep holding out on me?!”Yuri is the loud one in the relationship. That's a given, as far as Otabek is concerned. Yuri, however, has other ideas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mean... it's sort of domestic. Domestic enough. There's a few cute moments at the beginning and end...
> 
> Shush. I hope you enjoy.

Yuri is terrible at subtlety, something Otabek realised early on. He always has been.

It is regularly a problem during his programmes. His interpretation marks are often extremely high or barely average, with little middle ground. He’s not quite up to Georgi’s level of overdramatic, but if his skating does bring about an emotional reaction, it’s always direct.

It can also be an issue during conversations. Yuri cannot hide his emotions well or speak cryptically. Otabek finds it refreshing, usually, but it can turn to the ridiculous. Such as when he’s horny at an inopportune time and needs to drag Otabek off somewhere. Otabek still has to decide if Russian snickers from strangers at the rink are better or worse than text messages from his friends in Kazakhstan, all innuendos, for at least 4½ hours.

Yuri’s lack of subtlety is coming up now because his hand is awkwardly placed between Otabek’s legs. The police have just found the corpse, covered in fake blood, on the TV drama. Not-sexy stuff. Yuri gets deductions for both his timing and his style.

“…Yura?”

The response is an embarrassed grunt.

“What are you doing?”

Otabek moves the offending arm himself, but he’s kind enough to shuffle closer and hug Yuri from behind. He can tell he won’t get an answer soon, but he doesn’t want Yuri to be upset. Just… a little warning, next time.

Yuri is tense, but he leans back into the embrace. Their attention returns to the TV, although it’s obvious who the murderer is by this point. It’s not an interesting show, but Yuri refuses to change to the talk show that Viktor and Yuuri are currently guests on. Otabek turns and kisses the back of Yuri’s neck. He loves doing that, whenever Yuri’s hair is lifted out of the way. Today, it’s with a high ponytail.

Yuri sighs softly, almost purring in Otabek’s arms. However, just when Otabek tightens his hold, Yuri growls and straightens up, muttering to himself.

“Yura?!”

“You’re distracting me,” mutters Yuri.

Otabek cocks his head, trying to figure out what Yuri wants from him. He’s clearly horny, if the small, but prominent bulge is anything to go by. Maybe he wants Otabek to be rougher? That can be done.

Otabek draws Yuri into his lap, his thumb rubbing circles just above the waistline of Yuri’s pants. “Well, you’re my distraction, Yurochka,” he mumbles, his voice low enough to rumble in his throat.

There’s a choked gasp as Otabek nibbles on the lobe of Yuri’s ear, but it’s followed by a snarl. Yuri jumps out of Otabek’s hold, this time whirling around and pushing him down, so Otabek is lying on the couch.

Otabek blinks up dumbly as his wrists are pinned just above him. Yuri’s eyes are narrowed, but he’s biting his lip in hesitation. The late afternoon sun reflects against green irises, revealing yellow and orange specks surrounding Yuri’s pupil. Otabek, perplexed as he is, can’t complain about the view at all.

Yuri ducks down to press his lips against Otabek’s. It’s so fast, Otabek almost chokes on his breath. As their lips move against each other, Yuri lowers himself further, placing more of his weight down onto Otabek. First on his wrists, then their chests rise and fall against each other, in shorts breaths between their kisses.

Otabek has to hold back his groan as Yuri rubs his crotch against his own. The smallest whine escapes him, but even that is enough to make him blush. Well, as best he can blush, with all the blood moving south.

Yuri breaks the kiss and pouts at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“Huh?” Otabek is getting indignant now. This is frustrating. “Yuri, what’s with you? What am I doing wrong?”

“I never get to hear you! Why do you keep holding out on me?!” Yuri looks embarrassed, avoiding Otabek’s gaze and biting his lip. 

He eventually covers Otabek’s eyes with a hand when he gets no reply, muttering to himself. “Don’t laugh, shithead!”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Yes, you are, you’re laughing with your eyes!”

It’s true that this is amusing, but Otabek can understand where Yuri’s coming from. He loves listening to Yuri’s moans and sighs of pleasure; he simply isn’t sure what he can do to help. He isn’t as vocal as Yuri in general. And he doubts Yuri wants him to fake it. Otabek isn't the greatest actor, it would be easy to tell.

Then again, is this really his problem to solve?

He smirks, his chin lifted in resilience. “Then make me moan, Yurochka.”

There’s a tense silence, as Yuri contemplates the challenge being directed at him. Otabek wonders what he plans to do. Yuri usually acts through impulse in the bedroom, doing whatever he feels like in the moment. It’s rare for him to make plans, but when he does, he can get… creative, to say the least.

Eventually, the hand is taken off Otabek’s eyes and he’s dragged to his feet. Otabek grins behind Yuri, who started leading him to the bedroom, but stops dead in front of a cabinet in the hallway.

“Okay, Beka…?”

Otabek manhandles Yuri, lifting him up so he’s sitting on the wooden frame. Yuri gasps and squirms a little in Otabek’s grasp, but doesn’t complain at the chance to pull off Otabek’s jersey.

Otabek allows his head to be pushed to the side as Yuri kisses his neck. He can hear rummaging around in one of the drawers, but doesn’t think much of it. He’s preoccupied with lifting Yuri’s shirt up, revealing his milky skin. Today’s a day off from training, so they don’t stink like they usually do around now. Yuri smells of the fruity creams Lilia recommends him alongside his own familiar scent.

Yuri straightens up as Otabek runs his thumbs across both nipples, holding whatever object he was looking for. It’s clearly made of metal, if the clinking is telling Otabek anything. Black and round too, although it’s moving too quickly to discern at first.

It’s handcuffs.

Which are now tightened around Otabek’s wrists.

“Yuri, what are you-?”

Otabek glances around for a key, but the drawer is already shut. If they even are there. The cuffs are new, clearly designed for police use over bedroom games. Unlike Yuri’s, which are usually more padding than anything. (Otabek tends to break those when he’s wearing them, however.)

Yuri has one of the smuggest smirks Otabek has ever seen, gripping tightly on the chain holding Otabek’s wrists together. “You can’t play passive to save your life. This should help you out.”

Otabek looks into Yuri’s eyes, who’s backed away as an offer to end, if needed. Otabek nods his consent and pulls Yuri back. He’ll accept the submission, but he can’t be brought down so easily. “And if I break them?”

“Good luck with that.” Yuri jumps down and takes Otabek to the bedroom again. Otabek grimaces at how the cuffs dig harsh against his skin. Yuri hasn’t made them too tight, but they’re professional, meant to hold the toughest of criminals.

Although, as he’s practically thrown onto the bed, he must admit that Yuri’s bout of dominance is undoubtedly attractive. And that his ego’s lifted knowing that Yuri has to rely on the best equipment to hold him in place.

He struggles playfully as Yuri unlocks one of the cuffs, so he can attach Otabek to the bedpost. Otabek snickers at the frustrated growl from Yuri; far be it for Otabek to go easy on him. Yuri has to pin his upper arms down with his knees.

It gives Otabek the perfect opportunity to lean his head forward and mouth the clothed tip. Yuri shudders, although it doesn’t prevent him from locking Otabek back into place. Otabek stubbornly takes more in, giving Yuri as little reason as possible to move from his spot.

Yuri jerks away eventually, clearly reluctantly, and slides down to go for another kiss. He runs his hands down Otabek’s chest and torso, focusing on the dips of his muscles and rise of his Adonis belt.

Otabek refuses to whine. Yuri’s teasing him, keeping his lips just out of reach to kiss properly. Instead, he wraps his legs around Yuri, pulling him down. Their groins rub against each other, causing Yuri to groan softly.

Otabek grins at Yuri’s frustrated glare. “Still have hope?” he asks.

Yuri rolls over to take off his tracksuit pants. “I’m just getting started, asshole. Don’t get all arrogant.”

His cock springs up, pink and hardened. Otabek squirms, fidgeting with the cuffs. He wants to touch. It feels wrong not to touch.

Yuri leans over Otabek with a glint in his eye. He rubs his thumb over the corner of Otabek’s mouth. It feels nice, but Yuri isn’t naturally gentle like that. He’s mocking Otabek.

“What’s it like being the helpless one, Beka?”

This little…! Otabek shoves Yuri’s hand away with his head and struggles. He knows it’s futile; the bedpost is sturdy and the cuffs are strong. Still, he can see Yuri’s expression of unfiltered arousal. His eyelids are lowered and his pupils dilate the more he intensely stares at the metal bindings. His breath grows ragged as he tightens the left cuff to match the right, despite Otabek’s protests.

It’s gorgeous.

Otabek doesn’t resist against Yuri taking off his jeans and underwear. If anything, he’s needed them off for a while.

The fact that Yuri bothered to carry the lube in his pocket is the signal that he’s planned this a while ago. Maybe Otabek should have realised that when Yuri happened to stop exactly where the handcuffs were, but it hadn’t fully registered to him. Perhaps it had been the surprise of the situation.

Or, well, perhaps because Yuri chose to start the whole thing with an uncalled-for hand job.

Otabek could never complain about Yuri’s long, graceful fingers anywhere on his person, but Yuri doesn’t have much experience with applying lube. Otabek doesn’t find receiving as pleasurable an experience as Yuri does, so when he does bottom, Yuri usually goes for other methods. Otabek is curious about what Yuri plans to do today.

He spreads his legs wide, helping Yuri to prepare him properly. He can’t help but smirk at the stuttered gasp he hears. Sure, he’s planning on giving Yuri the silent treatment for the most part, but that doesn’t mean he can’t give a little show.

He raises his hips and thrusts himself towards Yuri, as a teaser of what he assumes is about to come. The sting of the cuffs make him hiss and tense, but it’s worth the small gasp that escapes Yuri, who stares at Otabek’s bulging arms. Sure enough, after what seems to be a moment of hesitation, Yuri steps forward to place himself inside.

That is, he only slides the tip in. The rest, Yuri is taking care of himself.

Otabek obediently continues to thrust, but he’s completely caught off guard. Even a little offended. This is rude. If Yuri’s going to have Otabek restrained like this, the least he could do is get him involved in the pleasure, surely?!

Yuri sounds like he’s enjoying himself, although Otabek can tell it’s put on a little bit. He loses his self-control for a moment and slides the rest of his cock in, but he must have a specific idea in his head as he pulls himself back out. Still, at least the head is brushing along Otabek’s prostate. It’s better than nothing, although Otabek has a long way to go compared to Yuri.

Yuri comes with a strangled, quiet gasp. Otabek squirms; there was already lube slipping out of him, but the cum drops uncomfortably in waves, slick and hot. Yuri licks his lips at the sight, making Otabek reflexively close his legs. It doesn’t seem to influence the view, as Yuri only grins.

Otabek’s wrists are already rubbed red, but he feels like he barely started. Yuri, on the other hand… 

“Heh, that’s out of my system. You ready, Beka?”

Oh… this is new territory. Yuri usually tries to go for the romantic ‘coming together’ when he tops. Perhaps it’s a pride thing, since he knows he’s unlikely to finish second. Or perhaps it’s the challenge of figuring out both his own and Otabek’s limit. Either way, Otabek isn’t sure what to expect, with Yuri aroused, but directing all his focus onto Otabek. He’s serious about achieving his goal to make Otabek moan.

Otabek feels vulnerable. But he’s also excited. How could he not be?

Yuri is careful to not irritate his now oversensitive cock as he climbs up for a kiss. Otabek shudders as fingernails scratch along his biceps and shoulder blades, making his wrists twitch in their binds. It’s a different pattern to when Yuri is writhing and moaning underneath him. The movements are more deliberate now, calm and collected. Not the erratic, desperate attempts to cling to something, that Yuri does as he looks for a solid presence in his haze of pleasure.

Yuri moves down from Otabek’s mouth to his neck. The miniscule, but stubborn nibbles are more familiar, Yuri’s main method of leaving marks. Otabek leans into the attention as best he can. It’s winter. Otabek already has to wear a scarf, what does he care if it needs to hide something on top of that?

He’s been fully erect for a while by the time Yuri reaches his crotch. Yuri prises Otabek’s legs apart himself and buries his head into the softest part of his thighs. Otabek fidgets, growing impatient. His cock is right _ there _ , ready and waiting for Yuri. What’s taking him so long?!

The first crack from Otabek happens when the grip on his knees become secure holds and Yuri’s soft, open mouthed kisses turn into rough sucks. Otabek gasps loudly, his whole body stiffening up. The sharp, almost brutal hickey contrasts with Yuri’s soft hair and cheeks brushing against his balls and the base of his cock.

Dammit, he’s not losing this. He bites his lip, then the inside of his cheek. He would curse at Yuri’s smug chuckle if he didn’t have to stifle his noises.

Yuri gives small, affectionate kisses to Otabek’s balls, then starts moving up the base of Otabek’s cock. A finger runs teasingly along the slit as nerves along the shaft are kissed and licked. Otabek can feel Yuri’s soft, wet tongue map out the crevices and details. He’s going too slowly,  _ fuck. _

“Yura…” That was way too soft, too pleading for Otabek’s liking.

He isn’t filled with confidence when he catches the small, but definite buzz. The vibrator rests against Otabek’s ankle, but is slowly moved up, past his knee, towards his ass. It’s covered in lube and leaves a sticky trail down its path.

“It’s the green one, Beka. Your favourite.” Otabek could kick Yuri if he wasn’t waiting anxiously for Yuri to use the wand as is intended. He lifts his knees for easier access.

He twitches and clenches as the vibrator is moved inside, placed against his prostate. It’s set to medium, he thinks, as he tries to shift closer to it. “Yuri, stop teasing,” he demands.

Yuri hums against the shaft noncommittally, which makes Otabek’s cock twitch. He’s starting to leak, about time, really. At least Yuri’s getting there now. Otabek isn’t sure he likes a Yuri that’s already come and therefore, has a lot more patience.

Well, he says that, but he also loves it.

Otabek is just about ready to come by the time Yuri’s lips reach his slit. With Yuri about to go down on him and the vibrator pressed against his prostate, he doesn’t stand much chance. His sigh of pleasure arrives from low in his chest as Yuri kisses the head, then ducks down halfway. His tongue moves around greedily, soaking up every drop of moisture. Demanding attention, a reaction from Otabek. Battling against the movements on Otabek’s prostate.

Then, something goes still. It’s his ass. Yuri took out the vibrator. The fucking  _ tease. _ Otabek can  _ hear _ it, abandoned somewhere on the covers, ready to be used. And Yuri’s right in reach of it, and his mouth, his mouth is hot and wet and moving too slowly-!

“Yura, stop fucking around!” Otabek doesn’t want to thrust up, as much as his body is begging for it. He might hurt Yuri, who doesn’t have a hold on Otabek’s hips. Otabek tries his best to calm down, get used to the rhythm. He’s given Yuri control, that’s the point of the cuffs. He can adapt to this just fine.

Otabek’s mind suddenly goes blank. That’s… that’s his entire cock enveloped in heat. Not just half of it, all of it. It’s all encompassed, all pleasured.

That’s Yuri’s lips against his base.

_ Is that the back of Yuri’s throat?! _

It takes a moment for Otabek’s brain to inform him that he’s lost. He can’t clearly hear the moans escaping his mouth; his ears have gone fuzzy. But he can feel them, sharp in his throat and against his tongue.

Yuri’s vocals are moving too, chuckling at his victory. It isn’t helping Otabek, not in the slightest.

He almost regains control. He’s so close. Yes, Yuri’s new deep-throating talent is the most wonderful thing and Otabek needs to learn something to repay him in kind, but it’s still new. Yuri can’t move all that quickly. Otabek has a chance.

Until the vibrator returns, that is.

“Yura…!” Fuck,  _ fuck _ , Otabek can’t  _ think.  _ The wand is pressed right against his prostate, his wrists are aching, his muscles are tense and he feels so  _ good.  _ Sensations tingles all over his body, moving south, towards his cock. Towards Yuri and his heated mouth, taking in every inch like he’s known how to do so for years. His tongue pressing against every sensitive nerve. Towards the vibrator, that’s set to maximum by now and won’t stop moving, won’t give Otabek pause for rest. Only builds higher and higher until Otabek can feel nothing else.

Otabek’s chest and lips vibrate under the strength of his moans.

The world begins to shut down as Otabek reaches the edge. He forgets where he is, which muscles he’s moving and when. There’s a lump in his throat, prominent and heavy, which he needs to push out. He keeps trying, feeling his ears and head rumble with every attempt.

He usually says someone’s name when he comes. He can’t remember who that is at the moment.

Everything goes still, quiet. Or rather, Otabek has gone quiet. Shit. His throat is ridiculously sore from what must have been a scream. That’s just…

Only the most competitive side of him is regarding this as a loss at this point. For the most part, Otabek can’t care about it.

Yuri re-enters the bedroom with a washcloth and cleans up Otabek enough to not feel like a gross mess. Otabek raises an eyebrow. He could’ve gone to the bathroom himself just fine…

Yuri notices his expression and winks cheekily. “Your legs are shaking. Just rest for now.”

He’s right. Otabek can feel the trembles, the weak state his limbs are in. Yuri sometimes ends up like this, but Otabek… he’s never had an orgasm so strong to leave him like this. He would probably be more embarrassed if he wasn’t drunk from afterglow.

“We’re doing this more often now, just so you know. You sounded amazing.”

“Shut up.” Otabek’s not refusing, he wouldn’t dare. But his pride is still a little sore. “Aren’t you hard by now?”

“I took care of it in the bathroom. You were out for a while after that scream.”

“You’re kidding.” Otabek groans into his arm. That’s just pathetic of him.

Yuri winces sympathetically when he unlocks the handcuffs, quickly running off to get some disinfectant. Otabek expected the bruises, but the cuts are a surprise to him. Then again, police cuffs aren’t designed to be friendly to strugglers. Perhaps they should’ve thought of that.

The wounds don’t look nearly as bad once cleaned. The bleeding has already stopped. Yuri offers a massage, but Otabek’s entire body is somehow too numb to feel pained, yet too sensitive to be touched. He rolls onto his side, his eyelids heavy even as the window light indicates early evening at most.

Yuri lies down to face him and runs a hand through Otabek’s sweat stained hair. “I didn’t get to do everything I planned for you.” He smirks. “I should’ve learnt deep-throat a lot sooner.”

“How did you learn?” Otabek’s throat is slightly hoarse, his words escaping in weak mumbles.

“YouTube videos. Bananas and cucumbers and shit.” Otabek finally finds the energy to hold Yuri closer, which Yuri accepts happily.

Otabek vaguely wonders how on earth YouTube allows those kinds of tutorials to be posted, but he can’t bring himself to care to ask when he’s so tired. Yuri’s hair smells so nice, Otabek realises as he rests his chin on it. An obviously artificial, but sweet apple scent.

“I love you,” murmurs Otabek, running a finger down Yuri’s spine until he’s found a comfortable position. He feels like his body is already asleep when his mind starts shutting down to rest.

He barely hears a whispered, “Love you too,” before he falls into slumber.


End file.
